A Sword Wreathed in Shadow
by mithrilwurz7
Summary: The story of the Kaminoken, the first Dreamstone sword, forged by Melchior during the Draconian War; also my first fanfiction.
1. Swords and Buckets

_            …The Masamune.  Sword of legend, sword of infamy; forged by Melchior, the great Guru of Life, its name would alternately be praised and reviled.  And yet, the truth is that it was the lesser of two.  When the ancient __Kingdom__ of __Zeal__ sank beneath the waves in a great cataclysm over thirteen thousand years ago, along with it sank many secrets.  The existence of the Kaminoken, the magnificent and terrible weapon whose legacy the Masamune would inherit, is merely one of these.  The Masamune would see its redemption at the hand of Serge, the Second Chrono Trigger; for the Kaminoken, there could be none._

_            Over 64 million years had passed since the fall of Lavos, and the extinction of the Reptites.  By the intervention of Fate, mankind had been allowed to see itself to prosperity, culminating in the great __Kingdom__ of __Zeal__.  Four Sunstones, creations of the ancient Dragon Gods as a gift to the Draconians, and subsequently lost in the ensuing war between them and humans, were capable of harnessing and storing vast amounts of energy, provided near limitless energy to the kingdom, and the Nu were always available to function as repositories of knowledge, as each new discovery in the realm of magic invariably created ever more questions to be explored.  Under the guidance of the Gurus, Zeal prospered, and mankind flourished in what would be the pinnacle, and the downfall, of civilization._

**Chapter 1**

_Swords and Buckets_

_16,000 B.C._

            For thirty years, Melchior had been obsessed.  The texts recovered from the Sea of Eden confirmed what he had known all along, and now that the moment of truth was at hand, he could hardly contain his excitement.  Constant war with the Draconians incurred a never-ending need for newer and deadlier weapons of war, and Melchior was the greatest swordsmith alive.  The skill of forging, maintaining the perfect balance in the blade to create a truly worthy weapon, constantly beckoned him back to his workshop and laboratory in the palace. This latest creation would be a sight to behold. Access to Dreamstone was normally restricted to those whose bloodlines could be traced back to the royal family; even as a Guru, one of the three advisors who support the kingdom, Melchior had not been able to easily obtain the material.  In addition to that, the mithril which had been combined with the Dreamstone in an alloy was not inexpensive, and the rainbow shards which gave the blade its finish could only be found deep within Draconian territory on the continent.

            "Finished at last!" he said, as he raised the gleaming blade up to the light from the forge.  "I had always suspected that there was more to Dreamstone than those nobles were willing to let on, and now I have my proof in this blade."  The sword shimmered in the light, and Melchior almost thought he could feel a steady pulse flowing through the finely crafted weapon.

            A quiet knock on the door was quickly followed by the entrance of Belthasar, the Guru of Reason.  The man walked in slowly, the only sound he made the rustling of robes on the floor.  Both men appeared mirror images of each other, of indeterminate age, with eyes that bespoke of wisdom beyond time.  Unlike Melchior, who was usually quite amiable and always open to conversation, Belthasar preferred the solitude of his study, where he could continue his research into Elemental energy and its uses without the distractions of any visitors.  This is not to say that he ever had trouble communicating his feelings to those around him when he felt the need to do so; the simple truth of the matter was that most of the time the Guru preferred to listen, rather than to speak.

            "Still playing with toys are we, Melchior?  How many times must I tell you; despite our victories in the past, it won't be any weapon of wood or metal that is going to win us this war.  The power of the Elements will be the decisive factor.  Even now our soldiers are being educated in the use of this new power in ways that make your swords and crossbows pale in comparison."

            "Do not be too hasty in your judgments, my old friend," Melchior replied, "there are properties in metal and stone that your research cannot hope to delve into; Dreamstone weapons and armor are more powerful than you could ever imagine, and this, my greatest creation, will prove it on the battlefield.  Believe me, in the hands of that young man, the Kaminoken will shatter the Draconian lines, and give us our final victory."

            "I assume you are referring to Aram when you say this?  He is as big a fool as you are; perhaps even greater.  I suppose that I should expect that, seeing as how you were the one who raised him.  Why cling to such outdated methods of waging warfare?  The future is already here, Melchior, and it has nothing to do with steel and muscle.  Even now, the Queen has decreed that a new special unit be formed specifically for the use of long-range spells on the battlefield.  Face it: the days of weaponsmithing are coming to an end."

"Is that so?  From what I have been hearing, the way in which Elemental power taxes the user's physical and mental limits has been causing some problems concerning the stability of your precious new units.  I often wonder if your work is going to bring ruin down on us all, Belthasar."

"We are working on getting around those limitations; it is only a matter of time before blades and armor are things of the past."  With that, Belthasar turned on his heel and exited the laboratory, the only audible sound the _swish_ of his robes across the stones.  Melchior looked on, quite unsure as to how the Queen could ever find someone so bothersome to be palatable for the amounts of time she spent in his presence.  He held the blade up once more so that the light danced off the flecks of rainbow shell buried in the blade.  "Kaminoken…."

Aram lay on his back underneath the fig tree out in the practice yard; six hours of nonstop sword practice and formation drills had exhausted him. Despite his rapidly growing reputation since his promotion to Lord Captain, very few real benefits seemed to be evident.  At least the position had earned him a degree of respect, if little else.  Now, in addition to the usual exercises and patrols, his days were filled with paperwork and administration as well.  For a man his age, the responsibilities were piling up far too quickly.

On the positive side, he was now able to see Erina much more than before.  As a lieutenant, there hadn't been much time for anything not strictly ordered by the higher-ups, but since his current position entailed much more freedom than his previous one, he now found that he didn't have to sneak out of the barracks for a short stroll through the woods or lunch together.  Despite the workload, this new position seemed to be turning out for the best.

Aram leaned back and closed his eyes.  As the cool breeze of the late afternoon rolled over him, sleep slowly crept in.  Right when he was on the verge of unconsciousness, the awareness of imminent danger that had served Aram so many times in the past alerted him – just in time to see a bucket of water flying at his face from above.

_Splash_!  The sudden sensation of the cold water woke Aram up instantaneously.  He slowly sat up, the bucket still covering his head and obscuring his vision; he didn't need to see to know who the culprit was.  Aram lifted the bucket, to be greeted by a sight that both thrilled and frustrated him at the same time.  Short black hair framed a fair face, with piercing blue eyes staring straight into his.  A small smile crept onto the face, and despite the unpleasant surprise awakening, Aram had to admit that the sight of Erina always made him glad to be near her.  After all, their first meeting had been much worse; getting kicked off of a horse after it had been spooked by one of Erina's spells had not been a pleasant experience.  Despite her protestations otherwise, Aram was positive that it had been on purpose.

"So we feel that we're important enough to be dozing in the middle of the day, do we?  I'm beginning to wonder if this promotion hasn't gone to your head.  Even if I do get to see you more these days, it won't make me happy if it turns you into nothing more than a big slacker."

"Erina, give me a break, will you?  I'm sore and tired, and this really _isn't_ funny at all!"

In response, the young woman merely giggled and shook her head.  "You've been so serious lately I'm beginning to be concerned.  I don't think I've heard you laugh at all this past month.  What could possibly be so troublesome that you can't tell me?  I thought you trusted me…."

At this Aram heaved a sigh, and turned on his side.  The breeze which had previously provided comfort now sent shivers down Aram's spine.  The Draconians had been devastated by the loss of the Sunstones; each subsequent battle was increasingly desperate, and he was worried that the Draconian leadership might attempt something rash.  At the same time, Queen Alise had ordered the introduction of Elemental soldiers into the fray. Although these men were undeniably effective, they disturbed Aram in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on.  Above all, it was Aram's sincere hope that Erina would be spared any hardship in the time to follow.

"It has nothing to do with trust, Erina." Aram then chuckled.  "I might not trust you very far when it comes to buckets of water, but never believe that there is anything I wouldn't tell you.  Trust me."  Before she could respond, Aram quickly gripped Erina's arm.  "There is a storm coming; I can't explain it, but I feel it within the depths of my soul, and I don't want to lose you in the midst of it."

"Aram, I…I'm sorry.  It's just that, I don't want to lose you either; I want you to stay who you are.  Promise me, Aram; promise me you won't lose your kindness."

"I promise."

D'Argoth Ruane looked on in horror as flames consumed the border town.  This was the third such incident since reports began to filter in a month ago.  Events that could only be described as most unnatural were occurring all over the frontier.  Bolts of lightning would rain down on a settlement or fortress out of a clear blue sky; the earth suddenly erupted underneath others.  It was clear that the humans had finally begun to tap into Elemental energy. 

 The Draconians had long known the use of Elemental energy, but its limitations and dangerous side effects had been deemed too much of a risk for regular use.  As a race, they had been in existence far longer than even the Reptites, let alone mankind; they were the children of the Dragon Gods, the natural inheritors of the Earth.  Now, the Draconians saw in the current conflict the greatest challenge they had ever faced.  Having been forewarned by the six deities, and with full knowledge of the fact that humans were the product of Lavos, the Draconians had prepared to go to war after the great cataclysm in which that infamous parasite descended from the heavens.  However, the Draconians were a patient race, enlightened beyond all others.  Therefore, the Council had decided to bide its time rather than to begin an immediate campaign, in the ultimately futile hope that at some point mankind would come to live in harmony with the other creatures of the Earth.  After millennia of watching and waiting, though, the patience of the Council had run out.  Therefore, in the year 16,008 B.C., the Draconians commenced a surprise attack on the capital of the human kingdom, in the hope that it would be enough to demoralize the forces of mankind.

What the Council hadn't counted on was the stubborn resolve of men.  Counterattacks were rapidly organized, and the humans were successful in slowly pushing the Draconian forces back to end in a temporary stalemate of sorts.  Now, it seemed as though the humans were raising the stakes, releasing a destructive power across the land that the Draconians had long ago forbidden from usage in times of war.  Elemental powers, although incredibly potent, were difficult to control; it would only be a matter of time before the humans realized the mistake that they made in relying upon such a force.  D'Argoth could only hope that it would be too late for them by then.

"Such devastation… how long do we really expect to last here?  It will only be a matter of time before we are driven back into the Sea of Eden, where no man can follow us.  After all this time, they have finally discovered it.  The irony amazes me to no end: by using the forces of this planet, the children of an alien entity would depose the natural, lawful inheritors of this planet.  May the Dragon Gods protect all of us."

A page rushed up the hill at that moment.  "My lord, forgive me.  We have been recalled by order of the Council and must return to Korata immediately.  This order was sent with the explicit instruction that we must arrive within eight days, or else we…we will be unable to attend the Raising, sir."

"Is that correct?  So, the Council believes that the situation is that desperate; indeed, it may in fact be just as they fear.  Still, to think that such terror is going to be unleashed on the world again…I cannot honestly say that I would wish that even on humans….  When is this madness going to end?"

D'Argoth turned back to face the young officer, obviously confused as to what it was D'Argoth was referring.  Although he was not necessarily old by Draconian standards, D'Argoth was not young either, and the last time that a Raising had been initiated was over two hundred years ago, long before the corporal who delivered the message had ever been born.  That had been due to the interference of the one who called himself Magus – the threat he posed then was so great, though, the Draconian Council was given no choice in the matter.

"At any rate, have the soldiers ready to travel in three hours.  This is an event we cannot afford to miss.  The future of our society depends on it."

"As you wish, my lord; I will have the dragoons ready to move as you have commanded.  There is nothing left here for us, anyway.  Even if the perpetrators are still here, there is very little chance of us finding them with this smoke.  By your leave, I shall go."

After he dismissed the messenger, D'Argoth continued to watch, as the flames consumed everything in the tiny village that rested in the valley on the border with Zeal.  The late afternoon sun gave everything a golden hue, and the surreal image of the smoke obscuring the sunlight made D'Argoth shudder.

The Queen of the Kingdom of Zeal cast an imposing figure on her throne.  Since the loss of her husband in the surprise attack eight years ago, she had only become harder.  The sheer irrationality of the attack was what had driven her to it, but Alise had never been one to back down from a fight.  Intelligence reports brought in by scouts didn't seem to make any sense either.  Apparently all of the Draconian troops that were not absolutely essential for defense at the frontlines were being recalled; for what exactly, she had no idea, but this sort of thing made Alise uneasy.  Rumors of a new threat were beginning to spread throughout the kingdom, although nobody could pinpoint the exact causes for it.

She rose from her seat after reading the latest reports, and walked slowly across the violet and gold marble tiles which adorned the floor, forming an enormous crest in the middle: the crest of the royal house of Midgar, the family of Alise's mother.  Her father, head of House Altena, had been assassinated shortly after her birth, in a coup involving a rival clan.  Although evidence was later brought forth and the guilty parties were sentenced to the headsman, Alise had been forced to grow up without the guidance and love of a father she could confide in as a result.  Right now, however, this was the furthest thing from the thoughts of the Queen of Zeal.

The new Elemental soldiers that had been trained at the behest of Belthasar, Guru of Reason, were proving to be less effective than she had hoped.  Although these living weapons were perfectly capable of leveling a town or fortress from a distance, the need to be in absolute control of the Elemental user's body prevented them from wearing any armor at all.  Furthermore, signs of instability were showing up among some of the units; apparently, the concentration required to gather the necessary energies for the spells was so taxing that some simply could not cope with the stress.  This invariably resulted in two or three of the men in every unit losing control of their power, and the only way to deal with them was to put down before they could cause significant harm.  Belthasar assured her, however, that such incidents would be eliminated in the future.  Alise looked out across the courtyard, to the sun setting far in the northern sky, and her thoughts were immediately taken back to that evening eight years ago….

_The late afternoon sun blazed in the summer sky.  It had been a perfect, clear day.  The emissaries from the newly risen fiefdom of Enhasa had been most gracious at the dinner in honor of their arrival, and now that the formalities were ended, Alise and Marcos sat down to enjoy the evening sky outside in the Royal Garden._

_"Tonight was wonderful, don't you think so, dear?  With the treaty finished, we'll finally be able to relax for a while and enjoy some time together.  We'll have to plan a trip back to Kajar, too.  I haven't seen the ocean in so long."_

_Marcos smiled warmly at his wife.  "Of course we will.  And we'll have to get back to what you were discussing with me the other night – maybe it is time that we started thinking about an heir…Alise?  What's the matter?  Your eyes are so wide…."_

"No!  Oh, gods, no!  I'll never forgive them!  Never!"  Alise stared at her reflection in the tall windows of the royal chamber, and she could see the tears that were flowing freely down her cheeks.  Suddenly, she was aware of a burning pain in her right palm.  Alise looked down to see blood running out of her palm; her fist was clenched so tightly that her nails had broken through the skin.

For the past seven years, Aram's day had begun at 4:30, along with all of his comrades in the barracks of the Vanguard; today was no different.  All of the men roused from their pallets to begin the morning regimen.  As the men filtered out into the practice yard, Aram once again relished the fact that this time he would be the one in the lead.  So much had changed since he was in the same position as the young officers he now guided.  His thoughts then wandered back to yesterday evening.  After drying off, he and Erina had gone out into the hills surrounding the fortress near the forest of Everest again, where they could get away from the other soldiers garrisoned there.  Of course, it was more for solitude than anything else, although Aram did his best to at least steal a few kisses before they had to return to the fortress.  Somehow, Erina had a way of mysteriously, almost accidentally, avoiding all of the advances he made.  He was simultaneously annoyed and relieved to know that, as long as he lived, Aram would never understand women.

Out in the practice yard, Aram was training one of the new enlisted men.  Setah Alvain was almost of an age with Aram.  Slender, but not thin, Setah moved with an almost feline grace.  Aram had been a swordsman long enough to realize that the potential within Setah was truly amazing.  Experience would prove to be the winner this morning, as the sergeant overbalanced himself after parrying Aram's last thrust, and before he could react, the flat of Aram's blade caught his left shoulder, sending Setah spinning to the ground.

"Good work, Setah.  You were close right up to the end.  When you parry, be sure to spread your feet just a little bit more.  Even if it leaves your front open, you're in a better position to react to the next attack.  Of course, it's never good to be on the defensive if you can avoid it, but some things can't be helped, right?"

Aram bent down to help Setah up to his feet, but by the time Aram had reached him, Setah had flipped back onto his feet, and was dusting himself off.  Setah was from one of the hidden villages near Mt. Woe.  These were places where the elite forces of the kingdom were trained, and some of it had inevitably rubbed off.  Unfortunately for Setah, the Draconians had known this as well, and his home was destroyed in the initial attack eight years ago, killing both of his parents.  Now, the unfortunate young man lived only for revenge, and he saw his path to it in the military.  Despite Aram's constant attempts to reach out to him, Setah still refused to say more than a few words at any given time.

"I should have known better; I just got careless.  Hmph, I guess it's a good thing this isn't real, huh?"  With that, Setah turned and headed back toward the barracks to clean up.  Aram feared for him; a man with nothing to live for besides revenge is sure to die an early death.  Just when Aram was contemplating whether or not to follow Setah, though, a man arrived on horseback.  Aram instantly recognized the uniform as that of the Elite Guard of the royal family.  Whatever message he was bringing apparently had its origins in the Royal Palace itself.

"I have a message for Sir Aram, the Lord Captain of the First Vanguard.  I was informed that I could find him here on the practice field."

Aram cocked his head to the side with curiosity.  The installation ceremony was not to be held for another three weeks, and he couldn't possibly imagine any cause with a need so great that he would be recalled from his current station.  With the Draconians in retreat, it was highly unlikely that there would be any need for additional defense of the palace grounds.

"The person you're looking for is standing right in front of you.  If I might be so bold, may I ask who the message is from?"

"Sir, this message was placed in my hands by the Guru of Life, Melchior himself.  He told me to be sure that you got it within three days.  As to the contents, I can only imagine.  Since Zeal's founding, the Gurus have been our guides.  Their thoughts are clearly beyond my own, sir."  With that, the messenger handed the rolled parchment down to Aram and quickly headed off back towards the hills.  No doubt Melchior had once again pulled a few strings in the palace court, and more than once an unfortunate officer had ended up paying the price for it by being assigned cleaning duty after it was discovered.

Still, this message was from Melchior.  Unknown to all but a select few, it had been Melchior who had discovered Aram, as a young boy.  Aram never knew his real family, and he had been forced to grow up on the streets.  In those days, thievery was dealt with harshly, but many of the boys who found themselves in Aram's situation in the days of the last king were compelled to resort to it.  One day, a royal procession was making its way through the castle town, and Aram, in his foolishness, had attempted to pickpocket one of the Three Gurus!  Taken aback at the boldness of the boy who would attempt something so brave and foolish at the same time, Melchior took the boy in, and taught him all of the skills that were essential to a warrior.  It was Melchior who had arranged Aram's assignment to the First Vanguard as a Lance Corporal seven years ago.  No doubt the mischievous man had something special to bother sending a message with such urgency.  Aram carefully unrolled the parchment, and began to read the contents.

_My boy, I know that the installation ceremony in your honor is not for a while, but I have something for you that cannot wait!  I beg of you, hurry back to the palace at the first opportunity you get.  Also, I wouldn't mind seeing that young lady friend of yours again…what was her name?   __Erin_ or something like that?___  Anyway, come back as soon as your duties will allow you.  _

- _Melchior_

A wide grin worked its way onto Aram's face.  If Melchior had something to show him, it no doubt involved some sort of new weapon, and despite the fact that Aram detested killing, he had inherited from Melchior the same love of weapons of war that the Guru possessed.  If this was urgent enough that Melchior would bother sending a messenger this close to the installation ceremony, then whatever it was that was waiting for Aram at the palace was something special indeed.  He had to get permission from the commodore in charge of the garrison, but given the circumstances, it more than likely wouldn't be a problem to get leave a few days early.  Convincing Erina to come along with him might be more than a little tricky.  Erina was training as a mage underneath one of Gaspar's pupils, and it was going to be difficult at best to get her to drop her studies.  Aram decided that he might as well take care of the easy part, and he headed to the main office to talk to Commodore Ibsen.

As Aram walked in, Commodore Ibsen raised his head from the field report he was reading.  It was clear on the man's face that he too felt that there was something odd going on within Draconian territory.  After years of campaigning against the Draconians, Ibsen knew their tactics as well as any man alive, and he couldn't help but feel uneasy about the recent recall of Draconian soldiers.  "Well Captain, what can I do for you this evening?"

Aram attempted to make his request sound as formal as possible.  "Sir, if it's possible, I'd like to be released from my current duties immediately.  The Guru of Life himself has requested my presence at the palace; I just received a message from one of the Elite Guard of the royal family, stating clearly that I must leave here as soon as possible."

            After hearing this, the commodore looked at Aram and began to chuckle softly.  Inwardly, Aram groaned.  Commodore Ibsen was one of the few men that knew of the relationship between Melchior and Aram, and he probably had some concept of what was contained in the message.  Ibsen immediately composed himself, though, so as not to further embarrass the young captain.  "I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to leave; with the Draconians acting the way they are lately, it seems like we won't see any action for at least another month.  You're dismissed, captain, but I expect to see you back here as soon as your business at the palace is concluded, if only for courtesy's sake!"

            "Thank you, sir.  I'll be back as soon as I possibly can; until then, I leave the men under my command in your capable hands."

            Just as Aram was about to exit the building, he heard the commodore's voice, intentionally kept low but still audible to Aram's hearing, "I certainly hope he isn't foolish enough to try pulling that girl away from her studies…."

            Not understanding, Aram continued on across the practice yard, into the mages' classrooms.  He didn't notice as the message from Melchior slipped from his jacket to fall on the ground outside the commodore's office.


	2. Lessons in Life

**Chapter 2 **

_Lessons in Life_

The ship carrying D'Argoth and his troops put into port at Fort Dragonia five days after the messenger had reached him on the rise above that border village; the mages on board the ship had made sure to put as much wind in the sails of the transport as they safely could.  Since then, he had begun to hear more rumors of incredibly destructive power being wielded on the battlefield by the humans.  Fortunately the news was not all bad, as the newest reports were indicating that in some instances, lightning was seen to fall among the humans as well.  It seemed that the Elemental energy users on the side of the humans were beginning to reach their limits.  It would only be a matter of time before they, too, were forced to abandon pursuit of such a foolish power.

The port was abuzz with activity this morning.  Although D'Argoth had expected as much, it was still unusual to see so many moving about in one place; the Draconians were a long-lived race, but they were few; they did not propagate nearly as quickly as humans did.  A single loss in the Draconian ranks amounted to an equivalent of almost ten men, and if there was any hope for a victory in this war, it could not wait for much longer.  Longshoremen, sailors, and army soldiers all moved about their business, making as much of a point of ignoring each other as anything else.  With the upcoming Raising, the mood around the docks, and more than likely everywhere else in the Sea of Eden, was tense enough to cut through with a blade.  A first lieutenant strode up the dock to D'Argoth as soon as he was disembarked.  The soldier informed D'Argoth that his presence was required in the palace immediately, and that a coach was waiting for him.  As promised, the coach was waiting for D'Argoth at the head of the dock.  A servant provided a step into the coach, and soon D'Argoth was headed for the palace.  

The ride through the city was always a nostalgic one for D'Argoth.  This was the town that he had grown up in, and he knew every inch of it by heart.  Despite upbringing in a military family, D'Argoth, like all Draconian children, had been allowed a great deal of freedom to do as he pleased until his thirtieth naming day.  Draconian society was very peaceful, and there was virtually no danger to Draconian children, even in the furthest corners of the enormous city.  He saw the Crystal Spire, positioned in the center of town, and the Hall of the Scions, where the members of the Council would commune directly with the Dragon Gods when they needed guidance or advice.  Multistoried, enormous houses lined the streets in the center of town, near the heart of the city's wealth.  Farther out to the opposite edge of town, the sight of plainer, yet still comfortable abodes greeted him; it was in a house similar to those that he was looking at that D'Argoth had grown up.  Finally, the town ended, and the road expanded.  The Grand Avenue only had one destination after exiting town, and Arraketh Palace loomed fully in D'Argoth's eyes.  As the coach approached the entrance, D'Argoth could see that there was a host of servants waiting at the enormous doors.  Such opulence always made the military commander uncomfortable, but he realized that from even a pragmatic point of view, such displays could be useful.  They inspired pride and honor in the population, and they offered the citizens a symbol of power to which they could look up.

When the coach came to a stop, one servant opened the door of the coach while another placed a stool at the ground for D'Argoth to step down onto.  Instead, D'Argoth preferred to step directly down, much to the chagrin of the servant.  Two of the Royal Guard, wielding deadly partisans and wary of anyone on the castle grounds, walked out of the palace to lead D'Argoth to see the king.  One walked in front of him and one behind; neither spoke a word.  They walked down hallway after hallway, corridor after corridor.  D'Argoth once theorized that the purpose of this must have been to give the king a tactical advantage over anyone who sued for an audience; if someone was too tired to debate a point by the time he reached his opponent, then he was much easier to defeat.

The party approached the throne room, where two more guards, similarly garbed and armed, opened the doors to the inner chamber.  As soon as D'Argoth stepped into the room, all four were surrounding him.  It was not that they didn't trust D'Argoth – many of the Royal Guard were actually close friends of his.  It was simply imprudent to take unnecessary security risks, particularly during times of war. Despite D'Argoth's relationship with most of the guards, he knew that none of them would hesitate to run him through with one of those partisans if they felt he represented a threat to the king's safety.

The throne room was an enormous enclosure, with ceilings that reached at least thirty feet into the air. Wall hangings and tapestries spanned the walls from top to bottom.  Gilding was evident everywhere, and when looked at from above, the mosaic on the floor could be recognized as an enormous image of six great dragons ranging over the earth: the symbol of the power of the six Dragon Gods over the forces of nature.  In sharp contrast from the rest of the throne room, the throne itself was made of wood, and not really ornate when compared to the rest of the room.  Save for some scrollwork on the sides and sculpted legs, it was on the whole ordinary.  Perhaps it might be fit for a well-to-do merchant, but nothing beyond that.  The king had decided that comfort was of greater value in a throne than decoration.  

The king, however, was not seated upon his throne at the moment.  A set of double doors led out onto a large balcony outside the throne room, and it was there that D'Argoth saw King Andreth looking out over the town, to the sea beyond.  He had aged considerably since the beginning of the war eight years ago.  His skin had turned from a deep red to a much lighter shade, and his shoulders sagged where they had not before, as if bearing a weight much too great for them had forced them down permanently. Despite it all, Andreth's eyes still shined with an inner fire that refused to be quenched.  His hearing was still sharp too, it seemed, as the king had begun speaking to him before D'Argoth realized he had been noticed.

"Are you trying to sneak up on an old man, D'Argoth?  I knew your parents before you were born, and I'm sure that Zenneth taught you better manners than that."

"Forgive me, my liege.  I intended no rudeness.  I merely did not wish to disturb his Highness while he was in the midst of contemplation." 

Andreth turned around to regard D'Argoth intently with his deep, brown eyes.  D'Argoth felt as if every inch of him had just been summed up, analyzed, broken down, and reassembled all in one instant.  He wondered if that was a skill unique to King Andreth, or if it was something that all leaders acquired over the course of their rule.  It certainly did nothing to make him feel comfortable, but a warm grin broke out over the king's face, and D'Argoth immediately felt at ease.  His father had been the First General to King Andreth two hundred years ago, when the king had only been a prince, and together they fought back the hordes that Magus had brought forth.  In the final battle, it was Zenneth who dealt the killing blow to the monstrous commander of Magus' forces, sacrificing his life in the process.

            Andreth's smile soon turned to an expression of profound sadness, though.  The war with the humans had not only taken a toll on the monarch's physical health; there was a heavy emotional burden to be borne as well.  The Dragon Gods had made it clear in no uncertain terms that mankind's threat to the harmony of the planet had reached the point where action could no longer be put off.  Still, it was only natural that over the course of the conflict, in which so many lives were needlessly thrown away, for motives that many in Draconian society were seeing as increasingly suspicious, there would be doubts on the part of the person who was responsible for dealing the first blow.  The king still maintained his convictions, and he had the full support of the Council, as it was they who had given the results of the communion to the king, but many of the common citizenry were beginning to question the methods being employed in dealing with the humans.  After all, wasn't there some way a compromise could be reached without further bloodshed?  Couldn't the humans be taught to live in harmony with the wishes of the planet? Was there truly no salvation for the progeny of Lavos?

            "Humanity is threatening to overwhelm the planet, D'Argoth, and yet, I cannot find genuine fault within them of their own creation.  They are like children lost in a cave, with a precipice right in front of them, and the light that would lead them to avoid the pitfalls is so bright that it will blind them if they ever look up to it.  The only possible conclusion to this sad affair will be the destruction of mankind, either by our hands or their own, and the only possible saving grace is that, if we are the victors, the planet will survive.  How will history judge me, D'Argoth?  My hands are soaked in blood whether or not I act.  I am tired; perhaps it was fate that this should happen, and yet I still look for a way out.

            "I sent for you, D'Argoth, because first of all, your father was a dear friend of mine, and a valiant warrior.  He saved us all at that time; I owe him my life, and you do too.  I am trusting that you will succeed in your father's footsteps, with the same bravery and valor.  I have faith in you D'Argoth, to do what needs to be done, and now I need your help more than ever.  When we commence the Raising in the coming days, I will expect you to lead the people in the ceremony.  If a fraction of your father's spirit resides within your heart, then I can rest assured that we will be successful."

            D'Argoth was stunned at hearing this.  The Raising was the most sacred of Draconian ceremonies, performed only in times of dire need, and the key to the ceremony was the Draconian who led the populace in the ceremony, ensuring that the life force of the people was properly channeled throughout the ritual.  One missed inflection, a word stressed in the wrong place, and it could spell ruin for the entire Draconian civilization.  Only a cleric of the highest order, usually one of the Council, was allowed to lead the ceremony.  The idea that a common soldier, even a decorated one such as D'Argoth, should lead in the Raising was preposterous.  Furthermore, D'Argoth was still far too young by Draconian standards; he was not yet three hundred years old!

            "Highness, I am honored, but surely there is someone more qualified to initiate the Raising.  In all the history of our people, such a thing has never been…."

            "I need you to do this, D'Argoth.  The people need you to do this.  If I cannot escape my fate, why do you feel that you should so easily slip those same bonds?!  Now I will plead with you; it is all I can do now, anyway.  I believe in you, and so do the men under you.  All of the merit that is yours, you have earned, unlike so many these days.  I could order you as your king, but it would avail me nothing if you do not willingly perform this task, so I will ask of you once more: lead the ceremony, if for nothing else than the preservation of the memory of our people, lest we abandon the world to its own devices and become forgotten."

            Andreth's eyes, so sharp just minutes ago, were now genuinely pleading with D'Argoth.  He had not noticed it earlier, but those sharp eyes were in fact bordering on desperation.  His father's friend, and the King of the Draconian people, had abased himself before a soldier in his service.  There was no choice left.

            "I will lead the ceremony, Highness; for good or ill, I will do it."

            Erina sat in the classroom, carefully paying attention to the initiate of Gaspar's who was instructing the eight students from the surrounding countryside.  Erina normally would be in the class back at Kajar, but special allowances had been made for her to come out and receive instruction here in the same place Aram had been assigned to.  Had she been a little less talented, it would have been impossible for her to get permission, but the headmaster at the Academy wanted to indulge her greatest pupil (provided, of course, that the proximity between her and Aram wouldn't create too much of a distraction from her studies).

            Additionally, the fact that this instructor had studied under one of the Three Gurus personally was almost as great an incentive for Erina to move.  Very few were offered the chance to study under them; usually one particular student every twenty-odd years would prove him or herself worthy of the honor.  Now the talented young man, whose name Erina discovered was Berem Macbeth, was discussing some of the more advanced techniques for merging magic energy with weaponry.

            "…so the combination of lightning energy on the front and underside of a ballista bolt will not only increase the effective range of the projectile, but its destructive power as well.  However, keep in mind the time required for such spells.  In combat, the lives of many men will depend on your ability to focus on your casting.  Always be aware of your surroundings, and don't be afraid to set off a series of smaller spells if you don't have the time to gather the energy for something with a larger area of effect.  Oftentimes the tide of combat can be turned by only a small addition of force.  That is all, for today."

            Aram had been waiting outside, listening to the instructor.  Magic was becoming an increasingly vital factor in warfare, but Aram still put more faith in a skilled men and a strong battlefield position than he did in the abilities of mages.  The practice was still too new, and there were too many possibilities for a mistake to be made.  Still, he had to grudgingly admit, the new and inventive uses currently being devised by Belthasar with this new form of magic, this Elemental power, certainly impressed him. 

 He had only witnessed it once, in a demonstration that the newest products of Belthasar's research had provided at the queen's request.  A line of haystacks had been lined up in a row at one end of a field roughly six hundred feet wide.  At the opposite end were three men, each wearing identical blue tunics with matching pants and a pin in the shape of a lightning bolt on the left lapel.  As if on cue, each of the haystacks exploded in fire one after another, sending huge gouts of flame into the sky.  The truly spectacular part of the demonstration wasn't evident until a few seconds after the flames had abruptly stopped; in place of each of the haystacks there now stood a solid chunk of ice whose physical form matched that of the original haystack perfectly!  Aram couldn't even begin to contemplate the implications of such a powerful and versatile form of magic.

Any thoughts about magic or battle flew from his mind, though, as soon as Erina appeared out of the classroom.  The instructor, Berem, had told Aram that "great potential" lay within Erina, and that given time, she could rise to a great position within mages' circles.  Erina could often be found poring over some scrap of literature with the magic user, and they often chatted about things that Aram could make neither heads nor tails out of.  Despite his level of patience with a mate who dropped buckets of water on his head, all this made Aram feel a tad jealous, but he trusted Erina; there was more to life than books and riddles, and Erina's spirit wouldn't allow her to stay shut up in a library somewhere.

"Aram, what are you doing here now?  Didn't I say that I'd meet you out on the overpass when I was finished today?"

"I couldn't wait Erina; I've got some big news.  They're letting me head back to the castle tonight, and I want you to come with me!  There's no real reason for you to stay here, right?  I mean, why bother to study under one of Gaspar's students when you can come with me and meet him in person?"

"What do you mean, tonight?  Aram, it's impossible.  I've got too many things to take care of here, and I've already made the arrangements to leave in time to be at your installation ceremony.  If I change things now, there's a possibility I might not be admitted back into the class!  I'm sorry about this, Aram."

"Please listen to me, Erina.  I'm sure we can…."

 "No, Aram.  This is too important.  I just can't."

"But…"

"No!  Gods, but you are stubborn!  What is wrong with you?"

"Erina, listen to me, this can't wait!  Look, I know I never told you, but you have to believe me when I tell you this: I was raised by Melchior, in the Palace of Zeal.  He saved me from a life on the streets, taught me to be a swordsman…."

"So you would resort to lying just to get me to go along with you now?  What kind of a fool do you take me for, Aram?  Outside of the Royal Court, nobody has even seen any of the Three Gurus in over ten years!  How can you expect me to believe such a thing?"  

"Erina, I swear it's true, just listen to me for a minute.  I can prove it to you, too!  A messenger just brought this from the palace from Melchior himself."  Aram fished around in his jacket's inner pocket, only to come up empty.  "I know it's here somewhere… where did it get off to…?"

"Are you done making a fool of yourself Aram?  This is absolute nonsense.  Just… leave me alone."

With that, Erina turned around and paced off, her short hair bobbing around her ears as anger played itself out in her body language.  Aram considered following her, but common sense took hold of him and told him otherwise.  He couldn't figure out what exactly had happened to the message, but Aram had never seen Erina so angry before.  He would have to make it up to her somehow (even if he wasn't really at fault), but now was not the time.  Aram made it back to his room and packed the belongings he would need for the journey, figuring that on a captain's pay, he could afford to buy whatever else he came up with when he reached the Royal City of Ashtear.  A horse had been readied for him by the stable in the eastern quarter of the fortress, and he set off just as the sun began to touch the mountains behind him.

In his chamber at Arraketh Palace, D'Argoth read by firelight a report from one of his men who had been unable to accompany the rest of the soldiers for the Raising.  Apparently the humans were making a point of pressing their advantage in numbers on the northern front.  The soldiers near Nargoth had been forced to abandon an entire fortress and retreat en masse into the foothills outside the area, a result of overwhelming numbers.  However, the same soldier was pleased to report that the entire compound was destroyed by the accompanying Draconian mages from a distance, with most of the human forces still inside.  Even if they were losing, it seemed that victory had made the humans drunk, and in their drunkenness they had become careless, not bothering to scour the surrounding area, despite the fact that even the lowest-ranking officer knew to do that much.  The northern campaign had apparently settled into something of a stalemate; safety had been assured, for the time being.

D'Argoth turned his attention to a matter more close at hand.  Tomorrow night would be the night of the Raising, the night when he would lead his people in a last, desperate effort to turn the tide of this conflict in their favor.  The king had ordered the Council to surrender the scrolls necessary for the ceremony over to him, despite the six sages' initial misgivings about the matter.  From what D'Argoth had been led to believe, the last time the Councilmen had communed with the Dragon Gods, they were told to allow the ceremony to proceed.  Thus it was that D'Argoth now had the support of both the king and the Council in this matter.  There could be no turning back.

As he had done every night for the past two weeks since his return to the palace, D'Argoth made his way down to the Chapel of the Dragons, the evening service having long since concluded.  Before the altar to the six deities, he withdrew the scroll from his robes, and began to recite the words written on the yellowed parchment, making sure that every word was enunciated just so, every inflection accurate.  The twin moons shone brightly through the windows, illuminating the chapel in unearthly blue and red light.  D'Argoth continued, not ceasing to take breath until he had read the entire length of the scroll.  He would practice it two more times before finally returning to his bedchamber, just as he had done every night before, so that by the time the ceremony was to be held, D'Argoth would have the entire contents of the scroll memorized.

Erina stalked back to her room.  The nerve of that man was unbelievable!  What in the world could make him think that she would abandon her studies, and possibly lose the opportunity to ever be taught again?  Sometimes she thought that all men must have been born with mush for brains, but she quickly dismissed the thought as she contemplated her last encounter with Aram.  She thought she understood at least part of the reasoning behind his behavior. 

 Erina had been spending a lot of time with Berem Macbeth, and even though she knew that deep down Aram trusted her, it was clear that he wasn't enthused at all by the fact that she had been with the mage so much recently.  Her relationship with Berem was strictly that of teacher and student, but the fact was that Berem knew a lot of things about the world that Aram would most likely never experience.  To study under a Guru meant to be exposed to countless ages of knowledge, standing right in front of you and giving you your instructions.  Despite what Aram had been babbling about earlier, he couldn't possibly have any idea how impossible it would be for her to meet one of the Three Gurus in person.  Those mysterious men – if they were indeed men at all – answered to one person only: the ruling monarch of Zeal.  Aside from those intimately involved in their machinations, the Gurus had virtually no contact with the outside world, and not even a Lord Captain on the day of his installation would be granted an audience with any of them.

Erina went back to her studying.  If the Gurus never appeared in public to speak, they certainly made up for it in the amount of reading material the published.  Gaspar's latest treatise on the use of magic in crafting fine tools, lenses, and other scientific instruments, beckoned to her.  Without further contemplation, Erina picked up the book and began reading, losing herself in the dual worlds of science and magecraft, forgetting, for the moment at least, all of her worries.

Belthasar sat in his private chambers in solitude, deep beneath the palace.  Night had fallen, and he was too exhausted to continue his experimentation today.  He had implored Melchior to at least attempt a fusion of Elemental power with one of his weapons, but the Guru of Life would hear none of it.  Melchior distrusted Elemental power, claiming it was too unstable to be of any practical use, and after several minutes of attempting to reason with him, Belthasar was literally shoved out of his colleague's chamber.  The fact that Melchior had a point did nothing at all to improve Belthasar's mood, and the latest news seemed only to confirm it.

            Belthasar seethed as he read the report from the Elemental training grounds.  Three more soldiers had been put down by their comrades after losing control of their powers.  Not only this, but another two were severely injured in the incidents.  One was burned over his entire body, and not expected to live through the night.  The other's situation, however, was more unique, and it troubled Belthasar even more.  Apparently, when this one's partner lost control, the mad soldier burned his mind in a way that nobody quite understood.  The results, however, spoke for themselves, as the mad soldier's partner now had the mental capacity of an infant.  Care was being taken to make sure that there was no chance of him inadvertently causing any unnecessary destruction, but Belthasar doubted that in his state the man could possibly focus long enough to do any serious damage, if he even remembered how to use his power.

            _There has to be a solution; I didn't live this long, serve this kingdom so well, to fail here and now!  If only the cause of the instability could be discerned, then maybe progress would be made.  For the moment, Belthasar could only continue doing what he had been doing.  Learning how to do something was always the easy part; why it worked when it did was another matter entirely.  Humans knew could identify fire; they knew how to make it, and what it did.  Still, anyone could strike a flint and begin one, but nobody had any concept of what it was composed of.  Just as heat and light are only the results of fire, lightning and earthquakes were the results of Elemental power.  It was the __substance of it that eluded him, that drove him to his wits' end._

            On top of everything else, Belthasar's sources near Korata were telling him that something big was happening.  What it was, none could say, but the population in the city itself was swelling as all of the citizens in the outlying regions, as well as any soldiers who could be spared, were brought within the walls of the great city.  Belthasar knew that the Draconians were desperate, and this latest news did nothing to encourage him.

            Time was running out for Belthasar, it seemed.  In a few more weeks, Elemental units would be in place in every troop and division in the army of Zeal along the front with the Draconians. He had already promised the queen that there would be no trouble integrating the new men into existing units, but unless he could correct his errors soon, the whole of mankind might end up paying the price for his pride.


	3. Raising and Burying

**Chapter 3**

_Raising and Burying_

            Aram had been on a horse for three days now, and his lower body was making him painfully aware of the fact.  Although Aram had intended to go directly to the city of Zeal in the royal palace, he simply was too tired to continue any more today.  If the city of Zeal was the heart of the kingdom, then Kajar was its mind.  This was where the primary research facilities of the kingdom resided, a home to thousands of scholars, each with his own personal area of expertise.  The only thing missing from the city was the presence of the Three Gurus; they, of course, kept their own places within the palace at Zeal itself.  

The city provided a perfect venue for all kinds of study.  It had a wide seaport, with a commercial dock extending far out into the western ocean, and a high ridge of mountains couched the eastern end of the city, providing the foundation for the tallest of the spires in the opposite direction.  Remarkably enough, the city elders had allowed a group of some of the more mechanically inclined among the population to embark upon an enormous mass transit system, utilizing a series of coal-powered winches and pulleys to convey massive cable cars over the surface streets.  Construction was just beginning, but Aram had no doubt that it would be a sight to see when it was finished.

Aram walked his horse in through the heavy gates (also mechanized) and proceeded into the commercial district of the city.  Aram knew exactly where he was going, but he still took the time to absorb the sights and sounds of the city.  Every time he came here, the old familiar landmarks were replaced by something new, and in most cases, entirely different.  Thankfully, the districting system that had served Aram so well in the past was not likely to be abolished any time soon, and he slowly made his way through the thick crowds of people to Corin Derman's inn, the Sea Breeze, in the far southwest corner of the city, by the western coast.

Aram gave two knocks on the stable door, and tossed a copper at the boy whose head poked out before a word had passed between the two.  Still, money seemed to be a pretty much universal language, and if Aram knew anything about Corin, the boy would no doubt have the horse unsaddled and comfortably put up in a stall in no time.  Corin was a man who had little tolerance for those who weren't willing to put forth a little extra effort to make sure that his patrons' stays were comfortable.  That alone was reason enough to stay at Corin's, but for Aram, there was one reason in particular that kept him coming back: the view from the balconies off of the upper suites out over the ocean was unparalleled.  Corin claimed that you could see the other side of the continent out _over_ the ocean, but even if it wasn't entirely true, it was close enough to make patrons return time and again.

As he strode through the doors, Aram quickly glanced about the room, taking in the sight of the common room where he had been treated to a drink for the first time after he gained his officership.  It was still just three o'clock, and the bar was devoid of customers.  Behind the bar stood Corin himself, busily organizing his stock.  The man was obsessive when it came to cleanliness, always making sure that his establishment was neat and tidy. This had struck Aram as highly unusual, until he heard the story of how this came about.  

It was rumored that after Corin's marriage, he had suffered the only beating of his life; this in itself was not _necessarily spectacular, but the community later found out that it was in fact Corin's wife, Alleth, who had given it to him, and while Corin was a powerfully built man, Alleth was a tiny woman, not weighing more than a hundred pounds.  Even now, twenty years later, the man still stepped lightly when his wife entered the room with baked goods or more alcohol._

Corin turned around, a bottle of wine in hand, to see who it was coming through his door.  Although Kajar was a relatively peaceful town, Corin had more than once been forced to kick out patrons who got a little too rowdy, and even though it was not yet midday, he didn't like to take chances.  He was surprised, however, to see Aram, who had been absent from Kajar for the better part of the year.

"Corin!  How has life been treating you, old friend?  And where is that lovely wife of yours?  I haven't had anything to eat all day, and I could go for a sweet roll or two."

"Aram, is that you boy?  I recognized your voice, but you look completely different from when I last saw you.  You were just a boy then, it seems, and now look at you.  You've grown.  What can I get for you, lad?"

"A drink at the moment will suffice.  Have any of my old friends told you?  I've been promoted; I'm only going to be able to stay here for the night, and then I'm off to Zeal for my installation.  Would you have ever thought it possible?  In just a few short years I've managed to make my way up to the rank of Lord Captain.  I'd like to believe that it's due strictly to my skill, but I often wonder if there weren't a few strings pulled back here in the palace, if you take my meaning."

"You mean Melchior, do you?  I wouldn't worry about that.  He's wise enough to know that it would only do you more harm than good in the long run.  Trust in the Gurus; they've been around for a long time, longer than anyone living.  No, even if Melchior does have a soft spot for you, he would know better than to do anything of the sort, and taking away the value of your accomplishments wouldn't prove anything."

"Thanks, Corin.  You always seem to know what to say."  Aram flashed a smile.  "In some ways, I wouldn't doubt that you know at least as much as any of the Three Gurus, and you haven't even had the benefit of their experience.  Thanks for the drink; I think that now would be a good time to get up to my room, though.  I've been on a horse for three days now, and my body has been giving me constant reminders since I got into town."

"Of course, of course.  I'll have a couple of my boys take your things up and have your room prepared immediately."

With that, Corin proceeded into the anterior of the inn, returning with two young men who had been in his employ long enough for Corin to trust them, even though there had never been a single theft in the inn's eighty year history.  After picking up the few belongings Aram had brought along with him, the porters led Aram up two flights of stairs, to a room on the third floor facing to the west out over the ocean.  After paying the young men for their trouble, Aram closed the door behind them and reclined on the bed sitting in a corner of the room by a closet.

The room was adequately, if not extravagantly, furnished.  A washstand stood opposite the bed, with a mirror behind it, and the closet had plenty of room in it, although there was no way that Aram could ever hope to fill it up with the limited wardrobe he had packed for the trip.  On the side of the room facing the ocean, glass-paned doors opened out onto a balcony, where a weathered wicker chair sat opposite another made out of wood.  All in all, the place had a comfortable, relaxed atmosphere.  One day, Aram would be sure to bring Erina here.  Of course, there was still the matter of patching up their relationship after what had happened the last time he saw her before leaving for the palace.  Still, she always forgave him eventually, even if Aram didn't know exactly what it was he was being forgiven.  At least time was probably on his side.

After a nap and a couple of hours of staring at the ceiling over his head, Aram sought out Mrs. Derman, enquiring about some method or other of cleaning off the dust of the road that Aram had hitherto been covered in.  In just a little while, Aram found himself neck deep in steaming hot water, courtesy of Mrs. Derman and her two daughters, both of whom gave him a most curious look on the way out of the small building behind the inn which housed the baths.

Aram leaned back in the basin, letting the water ease all of his muscles at once.  The palace was still a day away, but this short reprieve was a luxury he could afford.  Even if he wasn't needed at the palace for another week, Melchior would surely keep Aram occupied for the duration of his visit, and despite Aram's love for his adoptive father, he could at times be quite exhausting, particularly when he was on the verge of a new discovery.  If whatever he had gotten hold of was as important as that message seemed to make it out, Aram would have very little time to himself once he made it in.  Aram briefly considered staying at one of the several inns which could be found in the palace city, but he immediately dismissed the thought.  Once word had been sent to the court that he was in the city, there would be no way Aram could avoid a summons to the palace, and to refuse lodging there would be rude at best.

By the time Aram finally got himself dressed in clean clothes, the sun was already low in the northern sky.  Aram stopped in by the common room to politely excuse himself for the night, and he made his way up the stairs to his bed.  When he got there, he was more than a little surprised to find a note had been left on his pillow.  Thinking that maybe one of the Derman daughters had gotten some foolish idea in her head, he didn't think much of it.  The contents, however, turned out to be much more than Aram had bargained for.  The note was written in an elegant, flowing script, and yet he could definitely tell that it had been composed by a man.  His eyes slowly followed the text, as Aram could scarcely believe what he was reading.

_Beware the gift of the Guru of Life; if wielded without a pure spirit and steadfast heart, it will bring naught but destruction and despair to mankind.  It is pervaded by the hatred of life imparted to its very matter by the Draconians in their desire to preserve this planet.  There will eventually come a time when you must take it up, but heed this warning!  If you do not let it go in time, it will consume your soul, and you will become nothing more than a puppet for its pleasure, and its only pleasure is the shedding of blood.  When the time of the test comes, you will know what to do.  You have been forewarned; the fate of mankind for the next three millennia will depend on your decision!_

Aram carefully placed the letter in the inside pocket of his jacket, and locked the doors from both the balcony and the hallway leading into his room.  Someone had discovered that he was here in Kajar, someone dangerous.  He hadn't even told Erina where he would be, hadn't even made the decision to stop over for the night until that very morning.  The only way anyone could have known he was here is if he was followed; from which point, Aram couldn't be sure.  The stalker could have begun from Everest Forest, or only a few miles out of town.  One thing was clear in Aram's mind, though.  If this person could escape his notice, he was not someone to be trifled with.  Aram undressed, and drifted off to sleep, as the light of the twin moons shone down through a clear night sky in from the balcony.

Magus sat under a light post on the street outside of the Sea Breeze, watching the tide waver under the influence of the two moons, Astaris and Mentaris.  They were in opposition now, each exerting an equally powerful influence on the ocean in opposite directions.  Eventually they would come together again, working in concert.  Such was the relationship between the heavenly bodies; so was it between Lavos and men.  In this time they would be united, at war with the Draconians, the Inheritors of the Planet, but such alliances inevitably crumbled.  Perhaps alliance was too strong a word, as an alliance implies a mutual understanding between the parties involved.  This, like the force of the moons, was merely a confluence of interests.  In a few short centuries, mankind would once again be opposed to Lavos, just like the two moons hovering in the night sky.  Schala had shown him the way, though.  This time, there would be no mistakes.  
  


D'Argoth focused his thoughts as he stared at his reflection.  The ceremonial robes, violet with golden dragons over the vestments, seemed unsuited to him, in his own opinion.  As soon as the sun set, the ceremony would begin.  Word had traveled as far as the port, and the entire populace was gathering around the Crystal Spire; the Raising would require the energy of the entire Draconian people, and the Spire, the ancient conduit through which the spiritual energy of the Dragon Gods could be tapped even in their sealed state, would be the focal point of the ceremony.  Time flowed like sand, as D'Argoth once again went over the contents of the scroll in his mind, although at this point he could most likely perform the ceremony from beginning to end with a blindfold; of course, that was the idea to begin with.

The last rays of the setting sun flickered in the mirror, just as one of the lesser priests walked into the room.  He gave D'Argoth a slight scowl, no doubt disapproving of the king's choice in the matter.  Still, the young cleric knew as well as D'Argoth that the fate of the Draconian people hung in the balance, and that this was their last, best hope for victory.  The priest gave D'Argoth a slight bow and bade him begin the ceremony.  D'Argoth stepped out into the hallway, beginning the march that would determine the future of the planet.  Followed by a slew of clerics, foremost among these the six Council members, he proceeded toward the open gates of Arraketh Palace, stepping out onto the Grand Avenue.

            The length of the road into the city was lined from end to end on either side by Dragoons of the First Order, the most elite of the Draconian warriors.  As the procession passed each pair they fell in behind, until a column nearly a mile in length finally passed through the town wall, silent save for the rhythmic step of the marching soldiers.  Their faces were all of them grim, nearly emotionless.  Each of those decorated warriors was no doubt old enough to remember the last Raising.  They knew what was about to take place, and for all their masquerading, they were nervous.  None of them could compare to D'Argoth, at least in that respect.  He found it a miracle he could still find his feet without tripping, and the feeling only worsened the closer he approached the Spire.

            He began to see the heads of townsfolk poking out of their windows.  The courtyard surrounding the Spire was not large enough to hold the entire population, so those who had homes in town stayed inside, ensuring that room could be made for those who had traveled from far off for the ceremony.  The ceremony's spell, once commenced, would encompass the entire city, drawing upon the spiritual power of every last Draconian.  The procession gradually slowed down as it wound its way deeper into the city, as the people were more densely concentrated the further one approached the center near the Spire.  By the time the column reached its destination, the crowd was so thick it was nearly impossible to make room for D'Argoth and the clerics to get to the Temple of the Wind, from which D'Argoth would perform the rite.

            The Dragoons fanned out as they entered the Great Court, with the great Crystal Spire springing forth from the center.  The soldiers formed a complete circle around the perimeter of the courtyard, surrounding the great mass of Draconian citizens crowded around the Spire.  A path cleared before D'Argoth and the clerics now, leading straight into the Hall of the Scions.  The Council members drew up, three on either side of him, and accompanied D'Argoth into the temple, up several flights of stairs and out onto the great balcony overlooking the Great Court.  Here they formed a semicircle around him, each planting his staff into a slot in the balcony.  By this time the sun had long set, and without the power of the four Sunstones, the only illumination in the town came from the twin moons and the stars that shone overhead.  D'Argoth began.

            "O Gods of ancient times, I beseech thee, lend us thy power in this our time of need.  We are the Firstborn, those who favor your Will, and know your True Path.  Give us the cleansing flame that you yourselves once wielded, that we might be victorious over our foes."  Following this, D'Argoth presented the original scroll upon which the ceremony had first been written, raising it above his head with both hands.  "Here is the Proof of the Pact, passed down to us by our forefathers.  If it is your will, grant us this request."  

            The Council priests behind D'Argoth began chanting; softly at first, but slowly rising in a great crescendo as D'Argoth joined them.  "_Orees Ileatu Masanneth Verinictis…._"  A strange feeling began to creep over him, and D'Argoth realized that he was rapidly losing control of his body.  His lips moved impossibly fast, as the words of the prayer issued from his mouth unconsciously, unbidden.  The sound of what seemed like a great wave pounded in his head.  The chanting continued to increase its pace; D'Argoth's mouth was a blur.  A warm glow began to rise up from the city itself, surrounding the crowd gathered in the courtyard and spreading out over Korata itself.  

"_Laroness Jima Reneselle Estaries…."  The chanting increased in magnitude, at this point drowning out everything else.  Six bolts of pure white light shot out from the staffs planted on the balcony, piercing D'Argoth.  The light of the glow surrounding the city coalesced into a solid sphere hovering over the tip of the Spire, where it began to spin rapidly.  It shot straight up into the sky, out of sight before any of the Draconian people got a chance to look up.  In response, a bar of pure energy thrust down out of the heavens encompassing the Spire, bathing it in blinding white light.  Just as suddenly, the light stopped; the bolts from the staffs cut off as well, and D'Argoth collapsed to the stone floor of the balcony, again in control of his body.  He looked out over the Courtyard to see what it was he had done, having been blinded in the flash of the Dragon God's response to the ceremony.  He looked out, and knew immediately that he had been successful._

At the base of the Crystal Spire stood what seemed to be an enormous Dragon, although that was not entirely accurate.  It was known as the Kageryu, a phantasm composed of pure spiritual energy, the union of the Dragon Gods and their Children in the most literal sense of the word, whose sole purpose was to wipe the planet clean of whatever threatened the Draconians.  Weapons and magic could not touch it, not even Elemental power.  Any force would be powerless against this, the greatest manifestation of the power of the Draconian people.  There was no doubt in D'Argoth's mind that it would annihilate the humans; he shuddered at the thought of the havoc it would unleash, and not even the fact that he was saving his people could console him.  "Highness, I understand now," he whispered.  "Just like you, I have become trapped in this spiral of fate.  Let us now see how it takes its course."

The next morning Aram woke up with a groan.  Apparently, taking an extra day to get to the palace had not been the best of ideas.  He had forgotten the pain that accompanied the day after one finished a ride, which was doubled by the fact that he still had another day's travel to get to his destination.  Still, after a quick breakfast of hotcakes and coffee, he felt up to the task.  Bidding farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Derman, he set an easy pace up the main road, putting him about four hours away from the palace.  Highway guards gave a courteous nod to him as he passed, as well as a wary eye for the sword strapped to his back; this even though his uniform identified him as a soldier in Zeal's army.

War made people wary, and nobody in the service of the country trusted strangers entirely.  Far too many had already been caught giving up valuable information regarding troop movements and military capacity in exchange for material wealth.  Even worse than that, there had been reported cases of fanatics who claimed that humanity, if left unchecked, would destroy the planet, and decided that it was in their best interest to aid the Draconians.  The only solution for these was unfortunately, execution.  Thankfully, there had only been two or three such incidents.

Aram continued along the main road, so that around noon he began to spot farmhouses off in the distance to either side, places where people had other problems to worry about besides a Draconian attack.  He passed several flocks of sheep as well, grazing over fenced in pastureland.  Another hour riding placed him at the town gates of Zeal itself.  After a brief inspection of his sparse belongings, Aram was allowed to pass through the gates, and he made his way through town.  Security was tighter everywhere; a sign of the troubled times.  Still, merchants would ply their trade, and plenty of shoppers were out at this time of day - mostly housewives, with a few others mixed in.  Aram's horse kept him from wading through the mass of people too quickly, but he was in no hurry.  Even counting his stay in Kajar, there would be plenty of time for him to meet with Melchior and find out exactly what it was he had gotten hold of.

Zeal had a distinctively different feel from Kajar.  While Kajar's was an air of innovation and invention, where you could never quite be sure what to expect when you walked into a shop, Zeal was designed to project the image of something grand and austere.  After the fall of the great meteor, the environment changed dramatically, ushering in a long and cruel ice age.  When the ground finally thawed and the survivors crept out of their hiding places, Zeal had been the first settlement to establish itself.  Over the next twelve centuries, Zeal's power would culminate in the creation of the palace, a testament to the city where mankind had risen from the ashes of the previous cataclysm.  Broad avenues divided the city into a patchwork quilt, all evenly placed and perfectly organized.  Tall spires reached out to the sky, some as high as two hundred feet, and the entire city was constructed of the purest white marble.  When the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the entire city was bathed in its glow, giving the structures a surreal appearance, as if the town itself were alive.  By far, Zeal was the grandest city in the human world.

Aram continued to make his way through the crowds toward the palace gates, eager to be able to relax for more than an afternoon.  How he was going to avoid running into Melchior before then, he wasn't quite sure.  At any rate, he was thankful when he finally made it through the busy commercial district up to the entrance to the palace itself.  The guards greeted him cordially upon his approach; no doubt word had been sent along that the protégé of Melchior had arrived, and even if these were times of distrust among the citizens of Zeal, the soldiers of the palace Elite Guard had known Aram for a long time.  The gates opened, and Aram made his way to the palace stables to have his horse watered down and fed.  He then proceeded into the palace, where again several of the Guard awaited him.  He was escorted to his usual room, located in the south wing of the palace, close by the workrooms of Melchior.  With any luck, Aram would be able to avoid the Guru long enough to get cleaned up and at get a small meal.  For all of the man's wisdom and experience, Melchior became as impetuous as a young boy whenever he made a really amazing discovery, and in his current condition, Aram wasn't sure he would be able to survive Melchior's prodding if he ran into him.

Fortunately for Aram, Melchior seemed to be too absorbed in his own work at the moment, as a notice on the front of the Guru of Life's door stated he couldn't see anyone until tomorrow morning.  Having already cleaned up and taken supper, Aram lay back on the bed provided for him by the palace.  If there was anything the military had taught him, it was to get sleep when you could; you never knew if you would get another chance anytime soon.  His thoughts wandered back to Erina yet again.  The feeling of worry that had been tickling his thoughts was coming back.  Aram dismissed it as something irrational, a feeling that arose only because they had been separated.  After all, nothing had happened yet, so why should anything change?  The men in the outpost were for the most part experienced veterans, and Commodore Ibsen was a military man worthy of respect.  As night enveloped the city, Aram stared out over the horizon, lost in the stars that shone so brilliantly.  Right before he fell asleep, Aram thought he saw a thin beam of light shoot down out of the air, to touch the ground far off in the distance.

Erina sat alone on the ridge overlooking the fortress.  Today's training had been especially difficult; simultaneous manipulation of lightning and water required a great amount of concentration, and more than one student came away from the exercise singed, even with only the minute amounts of magical energy Berem allowed them to use.  Erina was continually amazed by the man's skill.  Tasks that she considered nearly impossible he could perform effortlessly, and despite his protestations that in time they too would be able to perform the same feats, Erina had been unable to hold back her frustration when she herself was shocked this past afternoon.

"You know, you really were doing just fine, no matter what you may think.  If you had concentrated a little bit more, I'm sure you could have gotten it."

Erina turned around to come face to face with Berem Macbeth.  His approach had been so quiet, and she so lost in her own thoughts, that she hadn't even noticed him standing there.  Now, it seemed her field skills were deteriorating, too!  Erina gave an exasperated sigh.  Nothing had gone well since the day Aram left, and she still hadn't forgiven him for that, either.  How could he just lie to her like that?  She could have ignored it had he not insisted on saying something as ridiculous as that he personally _knew one of the Three Gurus._

"I suppose you came up here to offer a few words of encouragement, then?  I don't need any.  Just because some of us are more talented than others is no reason for me to complain.  Besides, you had the benefit of studying under one of the greatest mages the world has ever known."

Berem sat down beside Erina.  Even if Erina didn't believe it when he told her, she was one of the most talented mages he had ever seen.  She could pick up on a spell after seeing it performed just once, and even if she didn't succeed in her first attempt, she remembered well enough to make it work the next time.  Right now, though, Berem could tell that her mind was in disarray; over what exactly, he was not sure, but he could guess as easily as anyone in the outpost could what the source of her frustration was.  While she and Aram had not made any secret of their relationship, they didn't exactly advertise, either; at least, not among the garrison or the other students.  If Berem didn't address the issue now, Erina may be forced to at a time when other lives depended on her ability, and Berem was too responsible to allow that.

"You've been distracted lately; that much is obvious, and whether or not you believe me, Erina, you're one of the brightest students of magic use I've ever encountered.  I am going to tell you this, and I want you to listen, do you understand?  There are going to be times in the future when you may get frustrated, you may be confused, but when you're practicing your Art, you can't let anything else get in the way of it, do you understand me?  Lives will depend on your abilities, your own included, and you can't bother to take the time to sit down and sort things out.  Every mage, since the beginning of the Art, has had to deal with this at some point or another.  Maintain your focus; even in the face of great pain and suffering, that is the supreme rule of a mage; it is what _makes a truly great one.  Gaspar would force me to practice under conditions that could almost be described as torture," Berem gave a brief smile, "but I am neither so cruel nor so dedicated to do that to any of my students.  My only wish is that you come to understand what your obligations are, and deal with them accordingly._

"Oh, and don't bother trying to deny what goes on between you and Aram.  I don't know if you realize it, but just about everyone here in this outpost sees how you two look at each other, and that you both mysteriously 'disappear' at convenient times.  That's fine, it's part of living, but try not to let it interfere with your studies.  Otherwise, you may never get the chance to do that sort of thing again."

Berem got up and quietly walked back down the hill toward the walls of the outpost.  _She will be one of the greatest_.  Berem thought to himself._  Even if I have to force it upon her, potential like that cannot be allowed to go to waste_.  He made his way back to his quarters just in time for his evening meal.  When Erina finally got through this phase, Berem doubted that there would be anything she couldn't accomplish.

Erina lost herself in thought upon the ridge long after Berem had left.  More than anything, she hated it when people were irrefutably right, and Berem Macbeth had a habit of being right a _lot_.  She couldn't let complications in her relationships interrupt her while she was casting, no matter how big a fool Aram had made of himself.  Besides, in another couple of days, she would be in Zeal herself for Aram's installation; then, she would work things out with him.  Until that time, though, she just had to concentrate that much more on her studies.  By the time she made her way back to her quarters, nightfall had long since come, and the stars shone brightly through her window.  Erina looked up from her reading just in time to see a beam of light come down to earth far off in the distance.  What it could portend, she had no idea.


End file.
